Private Tales I Think I'm Paranoid

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Marcia

Cogitare
Dreadlords
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203
Character Biography
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There was theft afoot.

Well, that was Marcia's running theory after angrily searching for her compact mirror for four entire seconds with the patience of a Proctor five minutes before lunch. She could have sworn that she had placed it on the bench a few minutes ago before re-lacing her boots, but now it was conveniently nowhere to be found. Could the Initiate have looked a little more thoroughly? Absolutely. Would she acknowledge that and search properly? Never. Had to be theft—no doubt in her mind.

But who?


She swept her gaze up and down the corridor, which was admittedly quiet, given that it was already evening, and scoured the depths of her short-term memory for a clue. Somebody did walk past, right enough, from left to right and out to the courtyard. At this time? Internally, she cursed herself for her lack of observation before sprinting off in pursuit of the supposed thief.

Yet, when she arrived at the entrance courtyard, it was... empty? Nobody could have crossed it that quickly. Initiate Vult, maybe, but he didn't seem like the thieving type.

No, somebody absolutely walked this way, very likely with her mirror in their cretinous sticky fingers. She had decided it, and thus, it was true. Fucking bastard, whoever they were.

It wasn't just some sentimental object that Marcia might have wept over if she had to replace it; no, it was a vital component of her magic and an emergency source of reflection in rooms without. Not having it made the Initiate feel vulnerable, and feeling vulnerable was the eighth lesser-known sin. Also, it was just the principle of the matter. Violence between peers was one thing, but stealing?! Why not steal from the wealthy cretins with their noble house names? Why her?

"You've got to be somewhere,"
Marcia seethed, reflexively curling and unfurling her fists in anticipation of cracking somebody right in the jaw.

Having already double-downed once on deciding that the mirror had been stolen in the first place (and not just behind the bench), she also double-downed on the theory that her thief was here and hiding in the courtyard. Flawless decision-making. It had been a particularly taxing training day, and it was late in her defence.

And so the hunt began. She would kick every bush, climb every tree, and inspect every statue in the courtyard. There would be no hiding from Marcia nor her wrath.
 
  • Cthulu Knife
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There was a loud crunch across from the courtyard as Norah's small, petite form materialized. Arguably, the smallest and shortest in her class. Though, there were a few others that would rival her of that title and Marcia was one of them. The crunch was not a broken brench or misstep as if from sneaking away.

It was the sound of an apple crunching in her mouth as she walked toward Marcia. Curiosity glinting in her sharp, dark eyes.

Chomp, chomp, chomp swallow.

The apple just plucked from the tree at the other end of the courtyard, near the blackberry bushes.

"What in the nine underworlds are you doing?"
 
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"I'm looking for someone," Marcia snapped in response before even acknowledging who was addressing her, her head only turning after she spat out irate intent, which did not soften upon seeing Initiate Norah. If anything, the girl's eyes only narrowed at her apple-crunching peer.

There was an unspoken expectation that the two vertically challenged Initiates would be friends or, at the very least, get along.

A foolish expectation.

"Or something."

Norah was a bit light-fingered, wasn't she? A bit of a shady little sneak. The machinations of accusation were already working themselves across Marcia's face, an eyebrow raising as teeth gritted together. It was about the principle, and nobody else was around to accuse.

"Got something of mine, Norah?"
 
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Brown brows lofted nearly to her hairline at Marcia's accusation. Laser-focus like a Nagai scenting blood in the air of the jungles. Taking another bit of apple, she studied the half-eaten core thoughtfully as if considering her classmate's question.

"You know what Marcia?"

She took a sniff of the air before taking another casual bite of that apple.

"Your desperation reeks. Or maybe that's the smell of your lost dignity ever since coming to this place." Another bite of apple as she leveled her eyes on her classmate. Was Norah proverbially poking the bear? Yes. Did she have a reason to? Yes.

She owed the fates something and it was better to pay them back on her terms than their own.
 
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Marcia's head moved backwards as if Norah had physically lunged towards her, the other girl's words biting back at her accusation. For a few moments, the girl actually looked stunned, as if struggling to compute the sheer audacity.

Then again, was it so outrageous? She was the Academy's favoured target of ruthless mockery and humiliation. What was one more bully?

Once the shock had settled, the anger came to the fore. Marcia's fists balled as if that might have helped stop her from throwing them into Norah's teeth. Her jaw clenched, skin flexing with the tension pulled across muscle and bone, and the girl stepped forward, squaring up to the light-fingered Initiate until they were almost nose-to-nose.

"I'm going to give you a chance to take that back," she hissed through her teeth, ever-fraying restraint snapping fibre by fibre with each passing second.
 
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Another bite of apple, unphased by the girl similar to height squaring off with her. In fact, Norah looked bored. "Why are you so predictable? Look at you."

Taking the half eaten apple she offered it out to her in the short space between them.

"You got another shiner. Who is that from this time? Vitt. Fabian? Thomas?"

Lips pressed into a thin line as her dark eyes flickered over her classmate.

"There was a short time where I was hoping it was a ruse. Something you were putting on for a greater means. I mean, unless you have something to tell me I think I'm just disappointed."
 
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Norah, instead of backing down, doubled down.

She wasn't wrong, really. In moments of solitude, when the girl took to training instead of galavanting in nearby towns and causing untold mischief, she was capable of reflection in more than one way. She was predictable, and it was what explicitly made her a target. If she didn't react, then the unending list of bullies would become irrelevant.

Yet her rage was not a beast willing to be leashed, as perfectly evident by the way Marcia's snap reaction was to smack the offered apple out of Norah's hand.

"None of your fucking business," she snapped back in response to the comment on her black eye, the culprit not even one named, only proving her point.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

It was already plain to see on the girl's face; the outrage had spread from her face and into her stiffened shoulders and fists, which now trembled and primed for use. No sooner had Norah finished expressing her disappointment did Marcia throw a fist squarely at the other Initiate's gut.
 
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Norah took that fist and doubled over. A mixture of pain and something else contorting her face even as both her hands went to wrap around Marcia's wrist, if she was fast enough, she'd try to twist, taking the other girls arm and weight and try to fling her against the rough bark of that apple tree.

"That," she worked to catch her breath from that previous blow. "all you got?"

She felt the shift in her own magic and knew it wasn't enough.

Yet.

Even with a punch to the gut, Norah looked oddly smug.
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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There wasn't time to bask in the glory of slamming her fist into Norah's gut as she was swiftly flung into the apple tree with enough force to knock a couple of pieces of fruit loose, one of them bouncing off Marcia's head, which the furious Initiate promptly caught.

As Norah continued to goad her, Marcia's reddening face was caught somewhere between ire and confusion. She couldn't comprehend the game here. Norah was hardly the 'run to Proctor' type, and getting battered seemed like an ill-advised hobby. There wasn't much more thought put into it, the initial consideration swept aside by rage.

"You'll be shitting teeth when I'm done," she threatened through gritted teeth before throwing the apple in her hand squarely at the girl's face.

Of course, the fruit was a distraction as Marcia followed up behind her throw, charging at Norah and launching her forehead squarely at the girl's nose in what would be an almighty headbutt.
 
  • Smug
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Norah didn't move as the apple was thrown right at her face. It smacked hard against one eye that she managed to close just in time. She knew it would be swollen in a few hours and black and blue by morning. Give credit where credit was due. Marcia could at least throw. If they ever built a sport's team with the other initiates Marcia would probably be picked last but Norah would know to pick first.

Norah braced herself and remained still as Marcia followed up that apple throw. This was going to hurt. But she could already feel the magic begin to shift. As soon as Marcia cracked her hard head against the bridge of Norah's nose, she felt the sluice of that foreboding magic slide to the other girl.

That is, if Marcia didn't have any protections against curses.

Or couldn't somehow sense it coming.

The payment of bad luck would sink its claws into the other initiate for a certain amount of time. And even as Norah's head whipped back in agony. Even as her flesh split and blood welled and spilled free from her nose like it was the hot faucet running on a winter's night, it would be worth it to get that payment out of the way.

"Marcia," she spoke even as her hand lifted to try and halt the flow of blood from her nose. "You ever think about staring in an underground fight club? I bet you and I could make," voice mildly muffled. "a lot of coin."

And if the magic took hold and if Marcia was still in a fighting mood, she would probably find herself on her ass or somehow hitting herself if she tried to get another shot in at Norah.
 
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In recollection of events Marcia might have realised that Norah hadn't made any effort to avoid a single one of her blows despite being more than capable of such.

Unfortunately, as it stood, rage was not a beast that stopped for careful consideration of circumstance, a single-minded creature that only craved the type of release garnered from concussive impact of bone on cartilage. That thick smack, padded by meagre flesh was everything.

The sight of Norah's gushing nose was the perfect cherry on top.

Marcia stood, primed to go again, only to find a certain pause when the other Initiate sprung a scheme on her. It was, as far as methods of placatation went, pretty piss poor.

"I don't fucking car-ugh!" The girl's furious sentiment was cut off as she stepped forth to continue smashing Norah's face by a sudden and painful twang in her calf.

A muscle cramp.

Fucking now?!

It was deep, the sudden and unpleasant sensation of muscles contracting shooting up her spine like a jolt to the central nervous system. As a result her advanced was thwarted, leaving Marcia putting all her weight on one leg, bent over and attempting to furiously massage function back into the limb.

"And I... ah... don't even need fucking coin!" The girl added, still angry, but managing to claw back an ounce of reason.
 
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Norah ripped the fabric of her sleeve and pressed it to her gushing nose. Tipping her head back slightly. The coopery, salty tang dripping to her mouth and teeth. A pain and taste she was far too used to.

"Okay," she breathed and shrugged casually. Voice slightly muffled. "Why don't you do it for fun, then? Plus, it would probably only help hone the fighting skills you already have. I'm just thinking. After the Academy, it's not like they'll pay us much. Not like they used to."

And that was true.

Thanks to this revolution, Dreadlords were paid like guards now. A meager salary which Norah always thought as a load of donkey dung.

"Couldn't hurt to have some extra coin. But will you at least think it over?" Norah shifted the bloody rag as she breathed through her mouth.
 
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For fun.

Marcia shot the shady little Initiate a look that suggested that she was soft in the head. Although that look did soften when Norah continued her pitch for the underground fight club on the basis of additional training. Lost her again with Dreadlord wages though.

Talk about whiplash.

Having to think, at the very least, helped calm her down as she continued to attempt to massage the cramp out of her leg. Fuck, it was like her muscles were crawling.

"You know, being a Dreadlord isn't about the money," she scolded, with a disgusted shake of the head, "it's about duty. Not that I suppose you understand what that means..."

Her leg twanged, and Marcia, like some kind of pent-up maniac growled at her own body before giving up on standing and sitting down on the ground. Or what she thought was the ground. "Fucking hells!" Usually the ground wasn't so... lumpy, nor trying to lodge itself up her arse.

With a perturbed expression, the Initiate reached under and pulled the now half-crushed apple from beneath her. She hadn't even noticed where it had rolled to after bouncing off of Norah's face.

"And... what about the Proctors? I hardly think they'd approve."

Well, not all of them. Some of the pre-Revolution types would have probably been all for the teenagers brutalising one another in their spare time.
 
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Norah sunk to the ground across from Marci as smooth as a Savannah feline. Pulling the rag free from her nose she inspected the bloody thing with a small frown on her face before moving it back in place. Dark eyes shifted back to her classmate.

"If it's to test and build our skills as fighters in a more controlled fashion, I know most of them won't mind." Norah wasn't just saying that last part to get Marcia on her side. It was painfully true. Half the proctors were glad the students got into fights in the hall, to weed out the weak since the old ways weren't sanctioned anymore.

At least, not sanctioned publicly.

"At least you could throw as many punches as you wanted? Besides, if we get busted we could always blame it on someone else. Maybe Fabien 'King' D'Amour."
 
Well, how about that? Norah actually had a salient point.

Having been forcibly calmed down enough by her unfortunate leg cramp, hindering her ability to smash Norah's face any further, Marcia's expression turned thoughtful, albeit still tinged by her regularly scheduled anger.

The girl wasn't a complete fool; the goal of self-improvement was absolutely not on Norah's list of priorities, her desire to make coin her upfront selling point. Which, to Marcia, was like trying to sell tits to a eunuch. Although, the scoundrel of an Initiate wasn't trying to hide that this would be a money-making venture actively. Blaming D'Amour was just the cherry on top, the smug, self-satisfied prick.

If she'd put this kind of effort into her studies...

"Right. Call me interested,"
she conceded, chewing on the thought before laying down preliminary terms. "No magic. No weapons. Just hand-to-hand. Even if the Proctors wouldn't technically disapprove, it would be best to avoid killing one another."

An accusatory eyebrow rose; Marcia tilted her head at Norah as she massaged her leg.

"And I assume you and your cronies will run bets on the side."
 
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"And I assume you and your cronies will run bets on the side."

A blood smeared smirk in Marcia's direction. It was a slow grin. One that didn't have an ounce of threat in it but would still make anyone pause when it happened. As if a crocodile grinned at the fish it was about to eat.

"Absolutely."

Her grin eclipsed into something more thoughtful. Limont would have a trick up his sleeve for keeping the fights 'fair.' Without magic or weapons. She hated it but she'd loop him in. And Naser, too. Her fellow streetrat would see it coming, anyway. And he'd be a good alarm for if a proctor who didn't approve came. She'd always pick Naser for a lookout.

"I can work with those terms."

And Norah wasn't worried about interest. Half the initiates wanted to take out the others. She doubted participation would be a problem. And even though Marcia wasn't one of them, there were those that were always in desperate need for more coin.

"There's an old cavern in the Northeast wood. Looked like an old storage place."

Or where imitates used to be tortured in the olden days.

"We can use that spot." Rocking back on her heels, she popped to her feet. A slender hand stretched between them as she offered Marcia a hand up. By now her eye was nearly swollen shut.

"Anything else?"
 
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Marcia's eyebrows furrowed, not at Norah's carnivorous smile that made her feel like she'd been on the backfoot from the start or even the agreement of her terms, but rather at how prepared the other girl seemed to be for this opportunity. She already had a fucking location picked out for a start.

She took Norah's offered hand and pulled herself back up her feet, her other hand instinctively wiping crushed apple off her backside.

"Yeah, the guest list,"
the Initiate replied without hesitation, "no Larrainth, no D'Amour. I don't care how much coin they have; I don't want them there." Marcia was hardly the type you would invite to a clandestine unapproved fight club, enough of a vibe killer by herself, but throwing those twats in had the potential to make things nasty.

"Is that going to be a problem for you?"
 
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Norah frowned.

That would definitely set back the group's coin. There were a lot of students that wanted to see King or Vitt in the ring taking or giving out punishment. Most probably fell on the side of wanting to make them pay. But the thing was?

Norah knew they needed this short boss-girl puncher on their side to even get the club off the ground.

"No," she agreed. A rare earnestness in her dark eyes as she looked to Marcia. Eyes flickering over all the girl's freckles. "I won't invite them. If they find out and show...," voice trailed off.

"We'll figure it out if it comes to that."

As if the intimacy of the space they shared was becoming too much, Norah took a step back and looked around the empty courtyard. "What were you doing out here anyway?"
 
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There was a strange moment, a mere suggestion as they stood face to face, their matching heights allowing them to be at the same level as another person without bringing them down first. Marcia's brows furrowed as the girl caught Norah appraising her face, her own oak gaze soon settling on that swollen eye.

She couldn't put her finger on it; it was like time had slowed to a crawl for an awkward couple of seconds.

Then it was over, and in the newfound space between them, the Initiate folded her arms across her chest, already figuring that their potential problem had been solved by virtue of not inviting that pair of twats in the first place.

"No need. They won't come if they weren't invited; they'll pretend to be above it all to save face."

Onto more important matters.

"Looking for my mirror," Marcia answered honestly, still moderately suspicious of Norah, who seemed savvy enough to still play dumb, even now. "I assumed that you had stolen it."
 
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"No need. They won't come if they weren't invited; they'll pretend to be above it all to save face."

Dark eyes narrowed back on her classmate. "They have more pride than a mound of donkey dung but I wouldn't count them out so easily." She glanced around the courtyard, a frown tugging on her split lips. Hand lifted to wipe away at the blood that still dripped down.

She squinted, her one eye nearly swollen shut.

"M. If I wanted to steal something of yours you'd never know about it after and wouldn't see it coming." Shit. She was losing her touch if classmates were automatically assuming it was her. Rubbing her thumb over a coin in her pocket, she snapped her gaze around the courtyard.

"I'll help you look. I bet we'll find it. Better to have another set of eyes? Well, eye."

And a little luck perhaps.

"Was there anyone else around when you last saw it?"

She wouldn't put it past Lemont.
 
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Marcia was hardly approving of Norah's boasts; the girl was very much self-assured that she wouldn't get caught if she were to steal. She could appreciate the confidence in one's own abilities but wished it came from a place grounded in duty rather than self-centred criminality.

Still, on the totem poll of gutter Initiates, she stood head and shoulders above Limont and Naser by sheer virtue of being able to take things seriously.

"Well, then, I'm glad I've got nothing of value to steal," she replied, offering her vertically challenged compatriot a strained, tight-lipped smile. Admitting that she believed in Norah's ability to take something from her without notice was about as close to complimentary as Marcia could get.

"I had it on the bench back there,"
the girl said, pointing back to where she came from. "Somebody walked past, but I was lacing up my boots and didn't catch who it was. You were the next person I saw..."

Marcia shot the other Initiate a knowing look, her judgment softened by a sprinkling of amused disbelief.

"...and nonchalantly eating an apple is the most suspicious thing a person can do bar committing an actual crime. You may have well as been whistling, for fuck's sake."